Weapon
by Secrets of the Fall
Summary: Kurt was a fierce, strong person who was proud of who he was. So what was he doing with his father's gun? He wasn't a violent person. Kurt was not a violent person.


_**Hello,**_

_**I've had the idea for this fic in my head for some time now. This fic is written due to an amazing show called Flashpoint and to illustrate the dangers of bullying in schools. **_

_**I do not own Glee.  
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Weapon

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><p><em>They say there is nothing worse than the death of a child. A person who's not only a part of you, but shares so many things with you, is in and of itself, a miracle. A parent is not supposed to outlive their child and so, this was why, when Burt found his shotgun missing, he knew something was wrong with Kurt. <em>

_Now, Kurt was a strong kid. He held his head up high and didn't let anyone tell him how to live his life. Kurt made Burt proud. Kurt made Burt into the person he was today and the man couldn't have been more elated to call Kurt his son. _

_Which was the reason Burt did not believe that Kurt had used the gun on himself. While he had had some trouble back at McKinley for the better part of last year, Kurt had adapted and overcome. He had used his support system, and created another one when he left for Dalton. _

_Dalton. That all-boys school that had Kurt talking in a sporadic ramble, his eyes bright at he described an older boy named Blaine, (who was now his boyfriend). Whatever made Kurt happy made Burt happy, unless what made him happy was bringing a shotgun to school. _

_That gun. Burt was to assume full responsibility for it, since Kurt was a minor, but honestly, Burt was more concerned that Kurt had felt the need to bring that gun to school. Burt had never been more confused and overwhelmed in his life. The only other time he felt so broken was when he lost his first wife. _

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><p>7:44 A.M.<p>

Kurt stood at the McKinley high school entrance, hidden underneath a small alcove and half covered in shadow. He watched kids mulling about like herds of sheep and teachers scurrying around with stacks of papers clenched in their grip. It was all so normal.

He, himself was alone. A calm, nondescript expression blanketed his features, a stark contrast to the cold weapon at his side. The current situation he found himself in seemed surreal, and he almost laughed in the face of it. He was not a violent person, yet, here he was with a gun, and no one noticed him! That infuriated him. Were they all so blind and ignorant that they felt they didn't need to take notice of their surroundings?

Either way, it didn't matter. It would all be over soon. He didn't intend to shoot anyone anyways. It was a scare factor more than anything. No. He was just tired. He had taken enough crap from everyone.

He took a step forward, the movement causing strange sensations in his cramped legs and he exhaled slowly as he looked for any change in the student body. None. The bell rang, and everyone fled to class like they were on fire. He knew which class Dave had. He had heard him loudly proclaim a few weeks ago that the really hot, new girl was in his first period History class. Kurt smirked at the thought; he knew why Dave had felt the need to shout.

As he walked down the hall, he stopped short at the choir room. The glee club would never be the same after today, and Kurt wasn't sure what he thought about that as he felt guilt twist painfully inside of him.

He inhaled deeply, shook away his thoughts and continued on his to his destination; his fate.

7:55 A.M.

As Kurt peered inside Dave's History class from the small window on the door, his gut twisted painfully. Dave sat in his chair and flirted with a girl on his right. That disgusted Kurt. In that moment, Kurt took a mental step back and reevaluated his situation. There was no way now that he wasn't using his father's gun. He had too.

He also realized he was so blind with anger that he hadn't really planned this morning out. What he did know, was that within fifteen minutes of class, Dave would ask to go to the bathroom. It happened all the time, causing Kurt to wonder why Dave's teachers weren't more suspicious, unless they just didn't care anymore.

Kurt was starting to wonder who did care.

He glanced around him to make sure nobody was wandering around before he stepped into a nearby janitor's closet. After kicking a bucket towards the back wall, he peered through the slit in the door and waited for Dave to come out of the classroom across the hall.

He only had to wait five minutes, which was certainly a new record, for Dave to open the door, hall pass dangling from his fingers. He watched Dave descend the stairs before slowly opening the door and following him.

Kurt could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. How could he not when he was walking through the halls with a gun in his hand? It was exhilarating, terrifying, and Kurt felt like he was a hitman about to put his target to rest.

He wiped his brow and kept at least one corridor away from Dave, putting together a plan as he went along. If he could get Dave alone in a bathroom, it would be that much easier to shoot Dave without making such a scene. Although he would have to create an escape route.

As he rounded the next bend, he heard voices and immediately pulled back. Two freshman girls emerged from the first floor bathroom, purses in hand and phones out, texting a mile a minute. Kurt groaned. He really didn't have time for this. He peeked his head around the corner and caught Dave at an open locker, presumably his, and Kurt saw his chance. The girls made their way up the staircase, discussing a sale at a department store later that afternoon. Kurt found he didn't care.

Kurt licked his dry lips and clutched the gun in front of him. His heart was pounding and it made it difficult to think. He pushed past the nausea creeping up his throat and focused on what he was going to do. He was going to kill Dave.

8:16 A.M.

Dave didn't even see it coming. Kurt cornered Dave into the lockers, using the barrel of his gun as force. When he heard Dave whimper in fear and surprise, his eyes widened in shock; Kurt realized for the first time that he was in control. A few other students, who had the misfortune of walking down the hall just as Kurt was getting started, stood frozen at various points throughout the corridor, their conversations forgotten, books littering the floor. He shouted at them to get lost, and all at once, the sound of their shoes scuffing the floor as they scurried to safety echoed across the walls. Kurt didn't care, he only had dark eyes for the lying, good-for-nothing boy in front of him.

He imagined the weightlessness that would envelop him once Dave was gone. It wrapped around him like a silk bathrobe, protecting him in it's embrace. It was all he ever thought about. It was all he lived for now. He had come to a conclusion a while back; either Dave needed to be put to rest, or he himself had too. Kurt didn't particularly want to die, so he realized the former would have to be put into motion, and now that it was, Kurt could feel the relief willowing inside him likes waves on a beach. He was ready.

You see, Kurt was a weapon that the students used as an emotional release. He was a weapon used against himself. That ended today. Kurt Hummel was a weapon no more.

His eyes became slits as he raised the gun, but was stopped short by a voice calling his name.

He cocked his head to the left only to feel his blood grow cold, and his grip on the gun loosen. Blaine Anderson was staring at him with the hugest eyes as a million expressions crossed his face: shock, denial, fear, concern, love, confusion and hope among them.

Kurt watched as Blaine took a step towards him but froze in mid-air as if he was re-thinking his actions. As if Kurt was a bomb that could go off at the slightest movement. They stared at each other; Kurt watching his every move, while Blaine looked at him as if to say, 'please think about what you're doing.'

Kurt did think about what he was doing. His mind was set. But what was Blaine doing here? He wasn't supposed to be here. This was all wrong! Kurt felt his cheeks grow warm as hot tears trailed down his face. He turned his attention back to Dave, who was standing a few feet away, huddled up against his locker. Dave was a coward. He deserved to stand there collapsed inside himself, shaking like the school was in Alaska instead of Ohio. Dave deserved everything Kurt wanted to do to him.

Kurt let out a rush of hot air and felt how heavy and _real _the gun clutched in his grasp was. This wasn't a show on TV or a script for a movie, this was reality and it made Kurt dizzy.

Blaine began to move slowly across the hall, his feet sliding forward silently as he took small, cautious steps. Kurt was having none of that. "Blaine! Get back!" he snapped. The tone of his voice frightened him, and he knew his eyes were betraying him. Blaine stopped, but continued to watch him carefully. If Kurt knew Blaine, and he did, Blaine would do everything in his power to get Kurt to put the gun down and get out of there.

At that moment, Kurt watched in horror and surprise as men and women clad in what looked to be very stuffy police uniforms walked into the hall. They observed the situation and seemed to be making quick, decisive conclusions about what they needed to do. One of them motioned for Blaine to get behind her, but when he refused, she went to him and stood in front of him with a protective shield. Kurt thought back to the choir room, and kept his eyes on what looked to be the team leader. He was giving everyone directions and stealing glances at Kurt as he did. Kurt held the gun protectively in front of him and sighed in relief as Blaine was removed from his immediate vicinity, even if he was still in the hall.

However, that relief vanished just as quickly as it came when the team leader announced himself to Kurt and began walking slowly towards him. Kurt pointed the gun at Dave who recoiled back against the cold lockers. "If you come any closer, I will kill him," Kurt warned, his eyes flashing dangerously. Who called the police? Kurt racked his brain and realized it must have been one of the kids he dismissed just a few minutes earlier. He trembled with anger, the gun shaking in his grip. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to go this way. He stood with a gun pointed at Dave, as Blaine watched under protection, and officers began to close in on him. He almost felt guilty as he imagined what he must look like.

8:47 A.M.

The Hostage Negotiator took another tentative step towards him and Kurt's head snapped up, his eyes shooting daggers at him. The man stopped and held up his hands to show Kurt he wasn't going to move again. Kurt raised the gun but held it off to the side to protect himself. He knew he wasn't going to use it with Blaine bearing witness. The Hostage Negotiator, whose name was Jake or John or whatever, knew that too. And now he knew that Kurt knew. Was that his plan or was Kurt a step ahead of him?

It didn't matter. Kurt was so angry. He was prepared to kill Dave, and he would walk away with dirt on his hands but that was would be fine. It really would because he was tired. So, so tired.

"Kurt." Kurt turned the gun on the man who kept his hands up, while the other officer pointed his gun directly at Kurt, ready to shoot if Kurt so much as lifted his finger. "I know you think that you'll be able to kill Dave and feel okay with that, but I have to tell you son, taking a person's life is a hard thing to come to grips with."

Kurt's heart pounded in his head. How dare this man tell him how he would feel! His finger twitched and he watched the officer with the gun inhale sharply. The man looked at his boss and they shared a look. "Son, you don't want to make my guy shoot you. He doesn't want to shoot you. Can you turn the gun to the side like you did before? You don't need to put it down, just put it off to the side. Please."

Kurt looked at both men. "Only if you make Blaine go away," he responded without looking at the boy standing behind the officer with the shield.

"Kurt!" Blaine called shaking his head. "I'm not leaving." His jaw was set in a firm line, an expression Kurt had come to call Blaine's stern, I'm-not-going-to-budge look. This was the first time Kurt found himself despising that look. "Kurt, please. Will you listen to me for one moment?" he asked softly.

The officers watched Kurt carefully for any drastic changes in his behavior, like getting ready to shoot someone. He lowered the gun once more, causing everyone to visibly relax, the atmosphere settling in around them. "I'm listening," Kurt quipped in annoyance.

Blaine struggled for words. Now that he had Kurt's attention, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Kurt sensed this, and felt his heart twinge with guilt. Blaine didn't deserve this, even if he did just mysteriously show up out of the blue.

With a nod from the female officer, Blaine stood up and looked at Kurt, no amount of fear in his gaze, only courage. "Kurt, I love you. I know how difficult it is for you to keep that gun away from Dave. I can see how hard you're trying," Blaine said.

Kurt felt his heart twist like a dish rag being rung once more. It was true, all he wanted was for this to be over, and a bullet was the final answer; the final way to end all his pain.

"…but this isn't the answer," Blaine continued. "Killing Dave won't right all the wrongs he's caused you. It won't help you in any way because you will be a murderer."

Murderer. A person who takes someone else's life away. Kurt remembered how he had struggled with that word for months, how he had twirled the syllables around in his mouth, letting his tongue sweep over them because it scared him. He was scared of his own thoughts and feelings.

"Kurt, let me help you," Blaine pleaded. Even though they were more than an arms length away from each other, Blaine held his hand out for Kurt.

Kurt looked at Blaine. He glanced at the officers, most still had their guns pointed at him, and then he stared down at Dave. Could he really kill another human being?

9:12 A.M.

Kurt knew what needed to be done. He was a weapon. He was a ticking time bomb just waiting to self-destruct. He needed Blaine to leave.

9:15 A.M.

"Kurt, I understand the pressure you feel. It's overwhelming and you need to let it out in some way…-" The officer's voice drowned out in the sea of Kurt's thoughts. He was done listening. Everyone needed to know that he was running this show. "If you do not remove Blaine, I will kill Dave," he stated, voice loud and full of authority. To prove his point, his gun was once again, pointed at Dave. The boy was pale, with tear-stained cheeks and puffy, red eyes. Good. Now Dave knew fear.

The officers paused. "Kurt, I will have Blaine leave with one of my officers, but I need you to do something for him."

Kurt knew as soon as he agreed to those conditions that he would never be able to go through with his newly constructed plan. He agreed anyway. He watched as Blaine came closer, every step excruciatingly slow until finally they were standing two feet apart, the gun hanging between them. Kurt could collapse into Blaine's arms if he wanted. "Kurt." Blaine smiled and touched his slightly shaking fingers to Kurt's cheek. "I need you to promise me…that you will stay safe." Kurt swallowed thickly. Blaine knew his plan and it broke Kurt's heart. "Promise me, or I am not leaving." Kurt licked his lips.

9:21 A.M.

Kurt had promised, surprising himself with his bold faced lie. He listened to Blaine's fading footsteps, while tears rolled down his cheeks. He stepped back from Dave and let the officers get him out of the area. Now it was only Kurt, the lead officer and his second-in-command. Kurt knew that it would be difficult to shoot himself with a shotgun. However, he was determined to die. The officer knew this, and proceeded to begin a crisis intervention.

"Kurt, I'm going to take a few steps forward," the man said as he took a few careful steps in Kurt's direction.

"I don't care."

"Okay," the man nodded. "I'm just letting you know."

As the man got closer, Kurt pointed the gun at him. The officer continued to keep his hands in the air, his eyes carefully watching Kurt.

"Kurt, I know that you want the pressure to go away so you can feel better."

"I will feel better after this."

"No." The officer mumbled something into his headset before continuing with the conversation. "You won't feel anything."

Kurt bit his lips as he choked back more tears. "I don't care."

"I notice you keep saying that. I think you really do care. Kurt, please lower the gun. If my officer shoots you, you will not feel better. It will hurt." The officer motioned for Kurt to lower the gun. "Please don't do this. Think of Blaine. Think of your dad."

"Don't talk about my dad!" Kurt screamed. He could feel rage coiling inside him, white-hot and threatening to explode. Kurt was so distracted by his anger that he didn't realize he had cracked a window; given an opening so the officer could have a conversation with him. So the officer could form a bond.

"Your dad cares about you Kurt. He's very worried right now."

Kurt trembled on his feet. They called his dad! Kurt felt like a trapped dog. He was ready to claw his way out with everything he had. "Stop talking about him," Kurt hissed.

"Your dad is here, Kurt."

"What?" No. They needed to get Burt out of here. Kurt turned the gun on the other officer, causing the risk level to climb incessantly. "Kurt, please lower the weapon."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't," he responded. Why did his voice sound small? What was happening to him. This wasn't like him. He was a fierce, strong person who was proud of who he was. What was he doing with this gun? He wasn't a violent person. Kurt felt like he was having an epiphany. That's what it's called right? All he wanted right now was to go back to his dad. He wanted to see Blaine. The older boy must be so worried.

The officer seemed to know that Kurt was slowly deescalating, and he cautiously moved closer to the trembling boy as Kurt began to lower the gun for the one-hundredth time that morning. He was so tired.

9:37 A.M.

_They say there is nothing worse than the death of a child._

9:40 A.M.

"Good job, Kurt." Taking a risk, the officer pointed to his headset and said, "Your dad is on the other line right now. He says that he loves you and he wants you to come home safely."

"I don't believe you."

"He says when he found out that Dave had been making fun of you, all he could think about was teaching him a lesson. He wanted to make Dave feel what you felt…how you still feel. But, Kurt, your dad says if you do what you feel like doing right now, it won't do anything to help. He says you're smarter than this. Your dad says he loves you."

Kurt felt the tears roll down his neck and fall on his fingertips. His breath caught in his throat as his body shuddered with the force of his sobs. The gun was heavy.

9:46 A.M.

Kurt missed Blaine.

9:48 A.M.

"Can you put the gun down, Kurt?"

Kurt hadn't realized that the gun was lowered against his hip. How did it get all the way down there? "I don't want to be here," Kurt mumbled.

The officer gave him a concerned look. "What do you mean by that, Kurt?" he asked as he watched for behavioral clues that Kurt would raise the gun again. There weren't any clues though. Kurt looked…defeated.

"I want to go home."


End file.
